She loved to tell Jeremy interesting stories, and he did not mind because he did not listen and could meanwhile think his own thoughts.
His chief decision arrived at as he marched along was that he would keep the village to himself; no one else should put their fingers into it, arrange the orchard with the coloured trees, decide upon the names of the Noah family, settle the village street in its final order, ring the bell of the church, or milk the cows.

He alone would do all these things.

And, so considering, he seemed to himself very like God.

God, he supposed, could pull Polchester about, root out a house here, another there, knock the Assembly Rooms down and send a thunderbolt on to the apple woman's umbrella.

Well, then--so could he with his village.